


Guerrilla Tactics

by Agent C (arh581958)



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Cute, Fluff, M/M, Match-makey Maria, Self-conscious Phil, Smart Clint, Sweet, shield training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 06:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5406149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Agent%20C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil gets distracted by a man outside the training room. He looks like Phil's secret fantasy of Captain America. </p><p>(Or: "Oh shit, you're the teacher!")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guerrilla Tactics

Phillip J. Coulson's got his head in the clouds. No, not really. It's more like just outside of the SHIELD lecture room. Even as a Senior Agent transitioning to Handler, part of his duties is to keep updated with the latest strategies and techniques used out in the field. It's to keep them sharp as any asset and lessen the likelihood of a wrong call during an Op because of miscommunication. SHIELD does its level best to keep all their agents on up-to-date. Hence, conference rooms H to J being converted into a large seminar room.

In the hallway stands a man, handsome, fit, and beaming. He looks like Phil's secret fantasy of Captain America, only shorter--not that Phil minded short, excuse you. The man had an aura to him that transcended the five inch small calibre bullet proof glass wall and pressed all of Phil's buttons perfectly. He was animatedly talking with his hands. Phil, for the briefest moment, wondered how the man sounded like. He bets that the blond would sound beautiful over the commlinks.

"Phil!" Maria calls his name for what felt like the hundredth's time. It might as well have been. Her face is red with exertion. He turns to look at her, tearing his gaze away from the large window. "You're been staring at the guy for nearly fifteen minutes! You couldn't be more obvious if you had a neon light stuck to you head declaring your intent." She exasperated with an eye roll.

"Maria, I don't even know him!" He tells her solemnly. "And even if I did, he wouldn't be interested in a middle-aged man like me. He's too far out of my league." It's true. Over the course of years, as he moved up the ranks of SHIELD, he's become less and less of catch and more of ageing old man. He's gone on more mission than dates in the past year and wasn't the least bit bothered---until now. Now, he wishes that he has a little bit more practice in the dating scene.

"He's new. I haven't seen him before." She informs him with a sly, knowing, grin. "Which is perfect! He won't know you either! There'll be no reputation to uphold, no bias, no expectations!"

He shakes his head and chuckles. "I'm sure the junior agent rumour mills are enough to get the word to him. I seem to be the flavour of the month after that Op in Estonia." That Op had been a complete and utter clusterfuck with local enforcement tailing them nearly every step of the way. It took some clever hacking and classic Mission Impossible moves on their end to make sure that it was a success. All of them came home alive with the intel. Phil pulled out of communications and stuck into the Handler pool.

"That Ops made you legendary!" Maria pushes. "Come on, Phil. He doesn't look like a Senior Agent. I mean look at the round baby-face! If I was his mama, I'd say that he'll break a few hearts someday. So why don't you save SHIELD all the drama? ... Bag that boy and his delectable round ass before he messes with other agent's heads."

Phil dramatically rolls his eyes. "You mean I'm not worth saving?" He asks but stands up nonetheless.

She bats her lashes and grins. "I know you'll keep a level head on the field and live to tell your survival story." She says, shooing him with her hands. "Go! The session's about to start. You might not get a second chance. Knowing you, you'd much rather miss out on him than be late for a lesson!"

Phil sighs and nods. As meddling as Maria can be, she is right on this occasion. He jogs to the door. If he was lucky, he'll find out the hot guy's name _and_ make it back to his seat before their instructor arrives. He ducks out of the room just as the mystery guys waves goodbye to a gorgeous redhead. His heart plummets. The blond _is_ perfect, perfectly taken as it was. He's just about to backpedal when---

"Agent Phil Coulson?" the guy smiles and his voice is nothing but curious. "You're agent Phil Coulson, right? I heard about you from the labs." By labs, he could only mean RND which mean that the rumours mills were in full swing and spreading beyond their _supposedly_ quiet IT department. Phil's sunken heart can almost feel the figurative boot crushing it. Blondie doesn't seem to notice his internal struggle and walks closer. "I've heard about that Op from last week... or was it a couple of week ago? The Estonian E-government thing. It's amazing!"

Phil can feel the blush all the way down his chest. The guy looks positively _genuine_ about the whole affair that he couldn't help but muster a little bit of pride. He steels himself for the heavy blow and reverts to his _agent-on-duty_ mode. "Yeah. That's me." He answers with a level voice. "It's a pleasure to meet you, erhm, I'm sorry..." He says shyly. "I haven't had the pleasure..."

The man just laughs with appearing offended. He offers Phil his hand. "It's Barton" Barton introduces himself with a lopsided grin. "Clint Barton, actually." He adds with a wider grin. "Ha! I've always wanted to introduce myself like that with the _Bond, James Bond_ last name first then full name. People usually know me by the time I meet then so I've never really had the chance... I, uhm, I'm blabbering too much, ain't I? Aww, fuck, Tasha tells me I'm a bit of a mouthy ass. I mean, _fuck_..."

Phil simple chuckles. Barton is adorable and cute and _taken_. He mentally reminds himself of the last one. He looks at the offered hand and wonders if he should take it under false impressions. What was SHIELD's policy on engaging third-party intentions on monogamous couples? He nearly pulls back with a flinch and decides that it's easy to squash his feelings.

"Tasha the red head you were with?" He wants to pull out his hair or bite his tongue off because that was _not_ what he intended to say. He is supposed to take Barton's hand, shake it, and pretend that his primal urge to bed the guy did not even happen. He is _supposedly_ good with compartmentalization like that---apparently, with Barton, he's not. He retracts it as fast as he can. "I mean. I... I don't mean to pry. You just looked...friendly."

"You mean, Tasha?" Barton blinks then blushes. "I mean yeah... we've been together since forever. Been us for a couple of years before we even came to SHIELD. Best friend. Best person I've ever worked with. She's the only one I trust to have my back in this line of business, you know?"

"Oh" says Phil with a crestfallen expression.

Barton seems to notice it immediately. "Oh shit. No." He bemoans and runs both his hands over his face. He's wearing SHIELD-issue fingerless leather gloves. It's not uncommon for people in their profession. For the first time, Phil notices that the guy's also wearing a tactical uniform, one that specialist normally use in the field during operations. "That not what I mean... I..."

Barton is a specialist. He might have been for years and Phil is just another guy from Communications. There's no way he'll be interested in such a boring computer geek.

"It's okay" Phil reassures with a shake of his head. "I better go. I've got a training session to attend." He turns to leave but fingers encircle his wrists, sure but gentle.

"Don't go."

It takes Barton a moment to regain his composure. "Okay, do over." He says with a sigh. "Howdy my name's Clint Barton and I just made myself sound like a complete dork, didn't I? I hope that won't interfere with you accepting my date offer."  

This time, it's Phil who blinks.

"Excuse me?"

Barton, for his part, merely gives Phil a large shit-eating grin.

"A date. Next Tuesday, if you're amendable to the idea of dating a mere specialist, sir. I mean you were looking at me, right? I saw you from the room while I was talking to Tasha."

"How can... how can you possibly know that?" Phil pries away his hand but doesn't move away. "There's nothing wrong with being a specialist, Barton. It's an honourable line of work, as well as any other office here in SHIELD... we all work to protect the world in our individual capacities. Rank had no say in it. I'm no different from you."

"Well, shucks, sir." Barton says with a blush. He rubs the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. It shouldn't be as endearing as it is. "That's got to be the sweetest goddamn thing anybody's ever told me. And I've got the best damn eyes in SHIELD, since you're wondering."

It takes Phil aback. "Well, I... Aren't you with Tasha?"

"No! We're partners, she and I, purely professional, platonic, and a little bit brother-and-sisterly." Barton shakes his head with a laugh. Then suddenly he ducks his head and looks shy again. "If you're not opposed to the idea, I was thinking of pizza over at Rollo's. It's down in Brooklyn." He offers tentatively. It's almost as if he's expecting Phil to make some lame excuse and ditch him. There's the way that he stands and the way he bites his lip that makes him appear-- _hopeful_.

Phil cannot find it in his heart to say no. On the contrary, his rapidly beating heart demands him to accept.

"Pizza sounds great." He answers with a small smile. He checks his watch and curses. It's been fifteen whole minutes! He's going to be late. He _is_ already late! The class was supposed to start an hour ago. He glances back at the room and lets out an audible breath. "Oh thank god" he whispers but Barton picks it up.

He chuckles, making Phil turn back to him. He merely grins. "Yeah, you had a training session, right? Do you need to go?" He sounds a bit cheeky.

"Yeah. Guerrilla tactics." Phil nods dumbly. "I don't really like being late."

"Doesn't seem that you are." Barton points to the empty platform. "Instructor isn't there yet."

Phil offers an apologetic smile. "Doesn't make it right." He pats his pockets and comes up with a fountain pen. He almost squeals when he finds his trusty blue pen in this inner suit pocket. Then he looks around for something to write on.

"Here" Barton exposes his forearm and lays it underside-up to Phil. "I lose track of things easily." He explains sheepishly. "This way, I'll definitely call you."

"Cheeky" Phil says but puts his private cell number on Barton's skin. He ends it with his name and a small flourish. He likes the way that Barton's flesh is marked with his initials. "There. You better call me, specialist. I come from a very good information organization."

"And I thought you spies were boring." he hears Barton shout back as he enters the room. He's too self-conscious to turn around. Maria's eyes are trained on him the moment he steps inside. He manages to wait until he's back into his seat. Her excitement is barely contained.

"So..." she starts with a wiggle of her brows just to annoy him. "How was hot, blond, and handsome?"

"He was all that and more" Phil replies with a smirk. "Got a date for this Tuesday."

"Phil you dog!" She exclaimed punching his arm. "You're lucky that the instructor is late. Or else you wouldn't have had the time to butter-up your hot young thing."

"Maria!" he gasps in mock horror. "I did no such thing."

Before she can retort, the seminar door opens and Bartons steps inside. He has the largest, cheekiest, most shit eating grin on his face and his eyes automatically meet Phil's before scanning the room at large. All of the agents suddenly hush, surprised at the _boy_ who walked _onto the platform_ like he owned it.

"Sorry, I'm late." Barton apologizes with a loud and steady voice. "My name is Agent Clint Barton, Specialist Level 5, codename _Hawkeye_."

Phil pales.

Hawkeye.

Hawk- _fucking_ -eye. Mercenary turned good guy. Trained with a bow. Flexibly as rubber.

Oh Jesus.

Hawkeye.

He barely registers what Barton aka Fury's newest set of assassins that he intended to assign to him. Phil knows, at the back of his head, that he just broke a dozen or so not-fraternization regulations in the last twenty minutes. Oh Christ. He stares in amazement as Barton leaps onto the platform and starts to write.

Phil blushes.

"So..." Barton speaks. "First things, first about Guerrilla tactics. It's probably the most important rule to them all..." he shoots his students a grin and points to what he's written.  It shows off the dark blue ink that marks his skin. "Rule number one. Utilize any resource available to you..."

**Author's Note:**

> This [“I’ve been staring at you for the last fifteen minutes before class started bc you’re hot and i really want to talk to you and oh shit, this bitch is a fuckin lecturer” ](http://dailyau.tumblr.com/post/135002425377/ive-been-staring-at-you-for-the-last-fifteen) happened on tumblr. So I happened to write it. 
> 
>  
> 
> I'm getting into the holiday cheer~ Do **YOU** want a holiday fic? Visit my tumblr and ask for one! :D
> 
> If you feel like sending more prompts or requests, you can [ INSPIRE ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/submit) on tumblr! 
> 
>  
> 
> Merry Christmas. Ho ho ho!


End file.
